Serendipity
by Her Name Is Erika
Summary: "Congratulations, Victoria – you're pregnant." / Or, a matter of serendipity. BenVictoria, BillyVictoria


**Serendipity  
show:** Young and the Restless  
**Central characters:** Ben "Stitch" Rayburn, Victoria Newman, Billy Abbott  
**Summary:** "Congratulations, Victoria – you're pregnant." / Or, a matter of serendipity. BenVictoria, BillyVictoria  
**Notes:** This is based on my imagination, spoilers and casting speculation. I'm also trying out a new writing style. I hope it translated well.  
**Notes2:** Team Victoria. ALWAYS. That is my stance. Take it for what it is.  
**Notes3:** You don't like her? Find something else to do with your time, and skip this.  
**Disclaimer:** I'm writing this for pure entertainment. That is all. I'm not hoping to make any profits, whatsoever – although it would be nice. But nope. I own nothing.

::

…_an aptitude for making desirable discoveries by accident._

::

You can attribute stress to a late – not missed – period, and there is a lot of it.

You're not eating properly, even though you try and think that maybe, things can be the way they are before, but they are not. It's all twisted up in knots just like your stomach and it sometimes literally makes you nauseous. Chamomile or ginger tea helps with that, and sometimes, you run. When you run, you don't think. You don't ruminate. You don't cry. You don't rage and want to break everything that reminds of you of Billy. You don't restrain yourself when every cell screams for you to hit Kelly again so hard she is smacked into silence because the sight of her makes your skin crawl. You just…run.

::

Telling Billy goodbye and setting him free is stressful and hard – it's more than that to be honest, but your date with Ben is actually nice. You laugh, eat at this Italian restaurant, and tell Ben about your time in Florence and how sometimes, you miss it. You have water instead of red wine because you're already wound up by Billy and you don't need more alcohol. Water is your happy medium. Ben tells you about his family because well, everyone knows about yours. He follows in the footsteps of his mother and becomes a doctor. His older sister is a cop like their dad, and it surprises you that he has an identical twin brother, who's an attorney. He's the baby of the family when you are somewhere between the oldest and the middle child.

This Italian restaurant has a wooden dance floor and slow music that plays in the background. Ben asks you to dance and yeah, you're a bad dancer but you take his offered hand and say okay, because why not? Your mind drifts to that Cuban restaurant and you know there would be a bad attempting at salsa dancing but Billy would make you laugh you both attempt it quite badly.

But he makes you cry just as much and the madness has to stop.

So, you end it first and Billy can do whatever he wants to.

You drop him off at Dylan's loft, and you legitimately have a good time. Well, Dylan spends all his time at Avery's apartment so Ben is actually by himself. You say goodnight to each other with smiles. You stop him, before he goes in and decide if you really are moving on, it's time to go all in. You kiss Ben, and he kisses you back.

You really kiss Ben goodnight because you're sober, and none of your parents are there to shoot silent disapproval at you. You will move on, and if anyone has a problem, they will deal with it.

Ben asks to do this again, and you smile at him, setting up a coffee date.

Ultimately, it's your life and you will live it as such – Billy, your parents, Ashley and everyone else, be damned.

::

You go home, kick off your heels and curl into the couch with your pink afghan. You're still in your little black dress because you too exhausted to change. There's an old movie marathon tonight and Johnny is still with his dad at Jack's house. You let the afghan attempt to warm you up. It's a Father Knows Best marathon right after and _damnit_, God must be toying with you. You try. You give it everything you have and maybe, you have to accept that the man you love is gone forever. You're not the same woman either. Nobody is the same. Everything shatters in October and you have to deal with the carnage on your part.

It's a stupid idea to turn the TV on. There will be no Jim & Margret Anderson tonight or ever so you turn it off and slide the remote control onto the coffee table.

Eventually, sleep finds you. It finds you, and you fall asleep feeling Ben's lips on yours and Billy's footprints all over your heart.

::

You insist on not wearing a gown, because it's nothing serious. The nausea, the stress and the late period, certain smells that make queasy – those all have explanations. Being the realist you are, you believe this is just routine blood-work because you've been putting off. You'll hear the results, and go home. That's all. You're fine. You're –

"…detected the presence of HCG in your blood."

You blink at the doctor like she has spoken to you in a foreign language you don't quite understand if you tried. Foreign language is one of your fortes, but you can't quite understand this.

"I'm sorry, I…" you trail off, the words locked in your throat.

The doctor has salt and pepper hair, eyes with seriousness in them that seems serious all the time. He closes your chart and really looks at you as his glasses hangs on the bridge of his nose. "Mrs. Abbott…" he starts, before you correct him with a weak smile. You gaze at the wedding band on your finger and you can't help but think this piece of jewelry is foreign, but familiar at the same time.

"Please. Call me Victoria, I insist."

He clears his throat and starts again, "Victoria, your blood-work came back and taking your history into consideration, we ran it twice. Simply put – congratulations, Victoria, you're pregnant."

"I can't get pregnant," you blurt out, forgetting the doctor is there for a minute. "I…can't." You remember Dr. Okamura telling you three years ago that you cannot ever have a biological child of your own. You will not get to experience pregnancy because one of your fallopian tubes is narrow, or maybe it is something to do with your ovaries. You don't remember the prognosis because it's wrapped up in medical lingo, but you get the gist of it. Experiencing pregnancy for yourself is not you and it never will be. You look up at the doctor, disbelief in your blue eyes and the tears ready to fall from them. "Dr. Cohen, I _cannot_ get pregnant."

"Well, I'm a believer in science, a staunch one but I have seen a miracle or two," Dr. Cohen says, and you are surprised by the softness in his eyes – a shade of green that makes you think of Faith's cat, Whiskers. For a fleeting moment, Dr. Cohen smiles at you. "Consider this an instance of serendipity."

You place your hands on your abdomen and you are in shock that the impossible happens. It's impossible, and yeah, it's wonderful because you will love this child no matter what and protect it by any means necessary. In your mind's eye, there is when you are so mad at Billy that words aren't enough to convey them anymore. You allow yourself to be physically close to him. It's really the first time since Delia's death that you make love.

Then there is that time when you are so emotionally wrought, feeling needed and wanted. You are drunk on tequila, and yes, Ben is right – you're sad, but you're always grateful he's there for you in that moment. You feel like you're free falling, not sure and uncertain of when you will hit the ground. For a few minutes in the back of a car, you're not bracing for impact. You actually feel safe for the first time in a few months, and there are no regrets. There is no shame and you're clear headed even you're being fueled by pure emotion and tequila that goes down.

"Right," you force a smile, hand still on your abdomen. "Serendipity."

Dr. Cohen's tone grows serious, "Now, I've reviewed your history – the circumstances behind your son's birth and the string of miscarriages. You will be seeing Dr. Chiverton. She's one of the best OBGYNs in this hospital. She specializes in high-risk pregnancies, a perinatologist. I suggest that you avoid stress, and for today, go home and get some rest before your first appointment with her."

"Dr. Cohen, is…is there a way I can know how far along I am? Or my due date because I have to know. It's just important that I know."

You have to nip this uncertainty of paternity that hangs over you again. Baby Abbott or Baby Rayburn, you're not sure and you wonder if maybe, it's a curse of sorts. This baby is not a curse – no, you already him or her when you are scared to. Johnny and Reed's younger sibling grows within you when medicine says that is nothing about a pipe dream.

You cannot lie to Ben. You can't lie to Billy, because he knows when you are, and you can't spend nine months lying to yourself.

"Yes, there is – when you see Dr. Chiverton next week for a follow-up," Dr. Cohen explains, scribbling on a medical pad before he hands you the piece of paper. He sticks his pen into his pocket of his white pocket of his lab coat. You take the piece of paper, prescribing you some rest, relaxation and pre-natal vitamins.

You smile at the doctor, part genuine and part forced.

You don't remember if you thank the doctor or not because you are somewhere between in shock and being numb. You probably do, because you're polite. You don't remember if Ben is working today or not, and Billy doesn't cross your mind – you're lying about that and it's another thing you hate yourself for – but you don't want to see both of them today.

::

There is this bomb that drops into your life, and as you drive by, the world moves on.

It's the same – it's not like the world will stop and stare because you're pregnant and Victor Newman is going to be a grandfather again. Well, not the world that matters anyway.

You stop by the pharmacy and it's nothing like buying a pregnancy test. Now, you are prenatal vitamins in a whole other animal. You also don't want to buy them. You don't want to go to this follow-up appointment. You don't want hope that your stomach will swell with this baby as it grows. You don't want to hope or fantasize whether it's a little boy or a little girl. You don't want to pick names and nursery designs. You don't want –

"Your total comes to fifteen dollars and eighty-thee cents," the voice of the pharmacy clerk snaps you back to attention and you whip your tears away.

"Oh, right," your cheeks hurt from smiling so much when you don't mean to. You apologize to Peggy – according to her name tag, fishing through your purse for your wallet. When you find it, you pull a twenty out, and telling the clerk to keep the change. "Thanks."

The store clerk has greying hair, and hazel eyes. She smiles and they sparkle. It almost reminds of you of Katherine, and you find yourself wishing she is here right now. "Good luck, honey."

"Thank you."

Yeah, you think, as you stuff the pharmacy bag in your purse, _I'll need it_.

But as Dr. Cohen says: it's an instance of serendipity.

You think because of the white lab coat that it gives off an authoritative air and you just have to accept that this pregnancy as something of joy. In normal circumstances, you'd run right to Billy and tell him that the impossible happens. A part of you has the urge to drive to the Abbott mansion to tell him. But everything is different. Everything is upside down, and shaken up. It's like someone shakes a snowglobe and the snowflakes fall like a blizzard before the dome itself, shatters.

::

Somehow, you are Alice. You fall down this hole into your own version of Wonderland.

You're expecting to see a Mad Hatter, a rabbit that is anal punctuality and Dr. Cohen is probably the Cheshire Cat, telling you that it's okay because everyone is a little crazy. He's probably right, or else you would not be pregnant but you are.

A couple of deep breaths and the waves of nausea manage to pass.

You will have to eventually face Billy, and you will have your coffee date with Ben.

Your car becomes a safe place and you pull over and place a hand on your abdomen again, "You sure like causing me trouble with your surprise entrance, huh? Well, you're here when I thought you wouldn't be. But guess what?" she glances down and faintly smiles at the light flutter in your chest. It's excitement and yeah, it's love. "Well, you and I – we'll do it together," you address the baby, probably the size of a lima bean. "Regardless of who your daddy is, I'm gonna to love you and protect you because I'm for sure, your mommy."

::

Serendipity, miracle, fluke… you're not sure.

Hannah will be back to bring Johnny back from spending time with his daddy later, but you resolve to take the first step because that's just it. You, Victoria Newman Abbott, is this child's mother.

You park in the driveway and get off your car, with the phone pressed to your ear.

"Good morning, Dr. Chiverton's office."

"Uh, hi," you reply, taking a deep breath while you lean against your car. "I'd like to confirm my appointment with her for next week," you added, explaining. "It was made by Dr. Cohen, I believe."

"Okay, sure. And your name is?"

You clear your throat, "Victoria Newman Abbott."

"Oh!" the receptionist on the end says after you hear the distant clicking of computer keys, "Here you are. So, your appointment is Thursday at 10:30 am. Is there anything else?"

"No," you reply, shaking your head. "It's fine – Thursday, at 10:30 in the morning. Thank you."

You hang up and visions of holding a bundle of joy in your arms finds themselves in your head.

::

Here's the difference between you and Alice, though:

You resolve to climb your way out of the hole you have fallen down in. It will take nine months. It won't be easy and frankly, you are terrified because of past instances. You're afraid of being comatose. You're afraid of the motherly ground never really being stable despite the law, and a little boy that looks at you, completely trusts you and loves you – you love him. More than anything. Worse, you're afraid of it ending before it begins and you will not have it slip through your fingers.

It's a nice day, but you enter your house and resolve to read a book (a copy of _What to Expect When You're Excepting_ that sits abandoned on the corner of your bookshelf until now) before Hannah gets here with your son.

You're certain of a little boy that will love being a big brother, and it's enough joy for now.

::

You wrap yourself up in your familiar pink afghan on the couch again. You'll figure it out when tomorrow comes.

* * *

**A/N: **Yeah… I don't know. I wrote it differently than what is playing on screen, so don't freak if you realize it doesn't follow canon so to speak. As I said, part of this is spawned from my imagination and speculations, but yeah - go with it and indulge me a little.

Thoughts? Honest feedback? I'd love to know.


End file.
